


Mixed Up In My Head

by Willow_Angel



Series: Cherik Playlist [4]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: (both physically and emotionally), Cain is a dick, Cain is such a dick, Cherik Playlist, Erik is a Good Boyfriend, Hurt/Comfort, I Could Get Used To This, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD?, Raven is Somewhat a Good Sister, Scarred Charles, TW: Bullying and scars, The Veronicas - Freeform, but she still needs some work, seriously, teen Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 14:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11106588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_Angel/pseuds/Willow_Angel
Summary: He didn’t know how to help them understand that he didn’t choose to be able to read everybody’s thoughts; it was a part of him. He’d tried to explain this to his sister and stepbrother, but they either didn’t understand it or didn’t want to understand it: telepathy is an awful thing to try and control.It’s like a wild animal, and when you cage it and try to rein it in, it just fights harder to get out.





	Mixed Up In My Head

**Author's Note:**

> *takes deep breath*
> 
> Okay, I'm sorry. This took a wild turn and sort of wrote itself, and I was just along for the ride. Soooo, here. Have this. I needed to write Cain into something, hokay?
> 
> Trigger warnings: bullying, scars, nightmares, PTSD. No graphic violence, though. Proceed with caution, and be safe :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> Title, opening/closing italics and inspiration from "I Could Get Used To This" by The Veronicas.

_Because you listen to me when I’m depressed  
It doesn’t seem to make you love me less_

Dreams are a funny thing – we all know that for certain. Sometimes they take us to a strange place that we can’t make sense of, and sometimes we can’t remember them at all. But sometimes, they take us back in time to our worst memories, and force us to remember our nightmares.

 

Charles sighed, marking his page and closing his book. There was no use trying to read now, he couldn’t concentrate. There were too many thoughts in his head, and he could barely distinguish which thoughts were his and which thoughts belonged to others.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be surrounded by so many people. As a fifteen-year-old, he had been going to school for a long time. He’d been surrounded by people both older and younger than him for years, so why was today any different?

He lifted his gaze from the cover of his book. He had found a peaceful place under a tree to read, as he usually did. Raven had decided not to join him today, as she was with her friends. So Charles was on his own, trying to let the words of the book wash over him. But today he just couldn’t concentrate. It was strange, really – normally he had no problem concentrating.

Around him, his fellow students sat in large groups and chatted, or ran around playing games. Across the other side of the school they’d be playing football or basketball, Cain often with them. Their thoughts were so very loud, Charles often couldn’t help but hear them. It was Raven and Cain’s thoughts that stood out the most, because he was so familiar with them. He was careful to ignore them and try and block them out, as Raven berated him whenever he accidentally answered a question not asked aloud, and Cain despised him with every fibre of his being.

Charles pushed his hair out of his face. He didn’t know how to help them understand that he didn’t _choose_ to be able to read everybody’s thoughts; it was a _part_ of him. He’d tried to explain this to his sister and stepbrother, but they either didn’t understand it or didn’t _want_ to understand it: telepathy is an awful thing to try and control. It’s like a wild animal, and when you cage it and try to rein it in, it just fights harder to get out. Charles rarely let it out, because he was terrified of what would happen if he did.

Home that afternoon was a nightmare. He’d been peacefully alone and reading in the sitting room when Cain had decided he wanted something that was in there. Charles had thought Cain had asked the whereabouts of his pack of cigarettes, so he’d replied, “You left them on the table by the wall yesterday.”

He’d thought nothing of it until he realised what Cain’s silence meant. His eyes became unfocussed and he took a deep breath.

“Get out of my head, freak!” Cain nearly shouted, marching over to stand on front of Charles.

“I’m not a freak!” Charles returned indignantly.

Cain scoffed, leaning closer. He loomed over Charles’s small stature, his face going red. “You’re a freakish try-hard that can do weird shit!” he said, as if Charles had to be reminded of the fact. “I told you to stay out of my head!”

Charles tried to control his looming anger. “I didn’t mean to!” he replied hotly. “I can’t control it!”

“Bullshit! You’re a freak and you know it!” Why’d my father have to marry your mother…” his voice trailed off into a grumble and he went to move away.

Charles snapped his book shut loudly and stood up to meet his stepbrother. “Because he was a manipulative _bastard_ , just like you!” he shot back, his voice rising to levels similar to that of Cain.

Cain’s face went even redder. “How _dare_ you, you freak!”

Charles let go of a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and moved towards the door. He’d had enough. “Leave me alone!” he said over his shoulder.

Charles’s didn’t dare run, but he couldn’t walk away fast enough to stop Cain from harshly grabbing his wrist and spinning him around. Charles tried not to wince at his grip. Cain moved in close. “Stay the fuck out of my head, or I’ll hurt you,” he growled, “ _and_ I’ll hurt her.”

Charles froze, both in fear and anger. His _sister_. How _dare_ he threaten Charles’s sister, the only family he had left? “You wouldn’t,” he said quietly, incredulously.

Cain shoved him into the doorframe. “Try me, freak,” he challenged. “You’re both freaks!”

Charles’s hands shook. “We are _not freaks!”_

That night, Charles went to bed with a split lip, a broken wrist, and little burns on his arm that would surely scar.

 

The day Cain had left to join the military was like the universe allowing Charles to breathe a sigh of relief. Yes, he’d held out well enough on his own against Cain, but finally having him gone was a miracle. It was strange at first. The house was a lot quitter without Cain around, either yelling at Charles or yelling at the servants. But Charles liked it better that way, he was happier with Cain gone. Now it was just him and Raven.

The first night after Cain left, Raven had found Charles in his room, curled in on himself and shaking. Charles hadn’t felt her coming or heard her come in, and he jumped violently when she tapped him gently on the shoulder. When he realised it was her, he tried to compose himself a little bit, but it was no use. Raven pulled him into her and they sat there for a while, comforting each other.

“It’s okay,” Raven soothed him, running a gentle hand through his hair. Charles’s breaths were shaky and rough. He’d never allowed himself to cry or dwell on it when his stepbrother had tormented him, but he just couldn’t hold it in now. Raven quietly shushed him, rocking them from side to side a little. “It’s okay,” she said again. “You’re okay. You’re okay. We’re here, together, and you’re going to be okay.”

Charles couldn’t help it. He sobbed, clutching his arm where all the little scars still remained.

“ _You’re a freak,”_ Cain still taunted him.

“I’m not,” Charles sobbed. “I’m not a freak.”

“No, you’re not,” Raven said, rubbing his arms. “You’re not.”

 _“Yes you are!”_ Cain shouted. _“You’re a freak and you always will be! You’re sick!”_

“Shut up,” Charles whispered. “I’m not a freak!”

“Don’t listen to him, Charles,” Raven urged him. A drop of water fell on him from above, and he realised that Raven was crying. “He’s wrong.”

 _“You know I’m right,”_ Cain sneered. _“You’re a freak! You’re a fucking freak and so is the girl! You’ll never be anyone, you’ll never do anything, and nobody will ever_ want _you, because you’re a fucking freak! Just go fucking die already!”_

“Charles? Charles! Charles, wake up!”

Charles’s eyes snapped open, and he sucked in a deep, ragged breath. He felt like he’d run a marathon. He was shaking and panting and sweating, and he was crying. He put his hands over his face so whoever woke him up wouldn’t see. There was a slight pressure on his shoulder.

“Charles?” Erik’s voice was quiet, grounding. “Are you alright?” Charles couldn’t answer. He just shook his head, still shaking. “Bad dream?” Charles didn’t move for a bit, but eventually he found the strength to pull himself up into a sitting position, curling in on himself. Erik sat up next to him, placing a cautious hand on his back. Charles leaned into him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Charles opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a strangled sob. Erik immediately wrapped his arms around Charles, who collapsed into him. Erik rubbed his back up and down, slowly, carefully, and ran his fingers through Charles’s hair.

 _I’m not a freak_ , Charles tried to tell himself.

But still, Cain’s voice echoed through his head, taunting him, sneering at him, ready to strike him down again, _“You’re a freak! Go die!”_

_I’m not a freak shut up shUT UP SHUT UP_

He became aware that Erik was kissing him. Erik kissed Charles on his forehead, on his cheeks, on his temples, on the top of his head, on the mouth, everywhere he could reach. “You’re wonderful,” Erik told him between kisses. “You’re wonderful, and you’re amazing, and you’re incredible, and you’re beautiful. I love you. I love you so much.” He brought Charles’s arm up, the one with the scars, and kissed his knuckles, running a gentle hand over the marks.

Charles let out a shaky breath, and leaned into Erik again. Erik pulled him as close as he could, and gently laid them down again. _I’m not a freak. Am I?_ Charles could help but think.

Erik kissed the top of his head again. “No, Charles,” he whispered. ‘No, you’re not a freak. Anyone who says you are couldn’t be more wrong.”

Charles gripped Erik’s arm with a shaking hand. He tried to calm himself enough to speak, but found that he couldn’t form the words. _Did you see anything?_ he asked quietly.

“No,” Erik murmured. “But you were projecting. I felt what you felt.”

_I’m sorry._

“Don’t be.” Erik hugged him tightly. “It’s not your fault. You’re beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful.”

Charles closed his eyes and exhaled heavily again. His breathing was steadier now. _Thank you_ , he said. _I love you._

Impossibly, Erik just pulled him closer. _I love you, too._

_Cause you wrote my name across your hand_  
When I freak you understand  
There is not a thing you miss  
And I could get used to this

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated ^~^


End file.
